Meant To Be
by ArixaBell
Summary: De-anon from the kink meme. England really wants to know about America's relationship with Canada. He probably shouldn't have brought that up... Various FACE pairings. Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

_De-anon from the kink meme. England really wants to know about America's relationship with Canada. He probably shouldn't have brought that up... Various FACE pairings.  
_

_Rather suggestive dialogue in the first chapter. Sex in the second chapter. I... don't normally write erotica so I'm kinda nervous posting this here. And if that's not your thing, the first chapter works as a stand-alone one-shot. That's how it was originally written, anyway. XD_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

This happened _every_ time they got a little drunk. Once they got to the stage where they were nice and relaxed, inhibitions lowered—but before they got to the stage where the next thing they were aware of was a splitting headache and a brand new tattoo on their ass—the conversation swung _that_ way.

Former lovers.

"Come on, tell me what France was like!" America said with a cheeky grin, setting his drink aside.

"You should know," England muttered.

"It's not the same! We fucked on _good_ terms! Tell me about the hate sex."

England rolled his eyes. "Once again, _you should know_, Mr. Cold-War-Sexual-Tension."

"Completely different."

"Well start a war with France and sleep with him. I'm not telling." England took another swig.

"For someone who's slept with everyone over the centuries, you sure are a prude."

It was part of being a nation. Humans couldn't even make it through their short lifetimes with one partner, how could immortals? But for the past fifty years or so, England had been exclusively with America—as everyone but them had known would happen. And considering their longevity and nature, they weren't jealous of each others' former exploits. Not usually. Not too much, anyway. Okay, so it kind of alarmed him how a nation as young as America had gotten around so quickly, but... ah well.

So that had become their routine. A few drinks, then gossip and tease and ask about their past conquests. And it always ended the same way. England waited for America to finish another drink, then dove into the question he always asked, the question America somehow managed to skillfully avoid every single time. "What about Canada?" He _still_ had no idea if the twins had ever experimented together. After the first time it had come up and America had deftly changed the subject (with sex), England had grown curious. Especially when the question was avoided every time after that.

It wasn't as if it were taboo. They weren't human. Gender and blood relation weren't considered important barriers.

So why wouldn't he answer? A simple yes or no was all it would take to quench the fires of morbid curiosity.

"What about Canada?" America grinned. "He doesn't hate France either, I'm sure their sex wasn't hate sex. Isn't, that is. Aren't they together now?"

"I mean you!"

"Me?" Cerulean eyes blinked owlishly at him from behind lenses.

"You and Canada!" England tapped America's chest. "Why don't you want to answer that? Just say yes or no."

"And why do you want to know so bad?" With a chuckle, America reached for another beer.

"Probably because when you refuse to answer, it makes me want to know why even more. Does it embarrass you because he's your twin brother? Seriously, America, we aren't humans."

"Of course I'm not embarrassed," America scoffed.

"So? Have you?"

"You stress over the strangest things!" America scooted closer, running a hand along England's thigh.

"I will not be distracted with sex again!" England swatted the hand away. "You are going to answer me for once. And if you don't, I will ask Canada. And France."

America gave him a wounded look. That damned kick puppy dog expression that worked so bloody well, damn him. England refused to back down, and finally America looked away, chewing on his lower lip. "You won't like it."

"Tell me anyway." What could he possibly say that would upset England? Sleeping with Canada would hardly be worse than some of his _other_ escapades.

"No, seriously, _you won't like it_."

"Fine. I'm all ready to be upset. Now tell."

"Ah..." America shrugged slightly, refusing to look at England. "Yeah. We did it a couple times. Long time ago."

England waited for the horrendous revelation. It didn't happen. "And?"

America finally peered over at him. "You do... remember about us, right? Our connection?"

Ah yes. Their weird twin thing. Of course England remembered. They could feel things the other felt, physical or emotional sensations, and the closer they were the stronger the feeling. It was not always a good thing. He still shuddered at the memory of witnessing them both collapsing with mirrored screams of pain during their little family breakfast on 9/11—he had had to turn to the news to even figure out which one had been hurt. The War of 1812 had been especially terrifying, knowing what they were doing to each other. To themselves.

So yes. He remembered. But what did...

Oh.

_Oh_.

Why had he never thought about it _that _way before? "You can feel _each other_ during...!"

"Right." America ran a hand through his hair, chuckling. "It was intense, to say the least."

England licked his lips, trying to imagine... double the sex, all at once. He couldn't.

"And it was only a couple times," America continued, smile once again gracing his features as he remembered, "but apparently we always come in unison. Can you imagine, two orgasms simultaneously?"

Oh...

"And it wasn't even just the shared sensations!" Apparently, now that he was finally opening up, he really wanted to spill everything. "It was just... the whole thing was too perfect! It's like his dick was tailor-made to fit me just perfectly. Like puzzle pieces. Better than that, even!"

England blinked. "Wait, _he_-"

"Every part of our body fit together just right! I felt complete with him inside me."

Okay, England was starting to understand the whole "you won't like it" thing. "I see."

"So we stopped," America said, fidgeting uncomfortably. "I mean, for one thing, it was almost _too_ much to handle. You know? And for another... well, if we kept _that_ up we'd never be able to enjoy sex with anyone else. I mean... you know..." He trailed off with a sheepish laugh.

"I see."

"I told you you wouldn't like it!"

England ran a hand down his face. "Yes, you did. And I don't. I suppose being told I'll never be the best sex you ever had is a bit of a blow to the ego, but I'll survive."

"Really? You're okay? Good."

But that wasn't the end of it. And, it turned out, that wasn't even the worst part. Later that night, limbs tangled together in the twisted sheets, they were on the verge of sleep when America brought it up again.

"That's not the only reason we stopped."

"Mm?" England's eyes drifted open. "Who?"

"Me and Canada. It wasn't just the sex."

"Oh."

"We knew... we knew that with us, it would be forever."

"What?"

"Everyone else..." America trailed a hand down England's side. "All nations move from partner to partner. It's just the way things are. But he and I aren't like that. We couldn't be like that. If we got together, it could only be forever. We weren't ready for that then, when we were young. And since then... well..."

England stiffened in America's arms, though the sleepy nation didn't seem to notice. America finally drifted off, but sleep had completely fled England.

* * *

America went home the next day, and England was left to his less than pleasant thoughts. Being told someone else—someone totally (probably) inexperienced!—was his best time ever, that England could get over. America enjoyed their lovemaking, so what if it wasn't as mind blowing as freaky twin double-sex?

But the other part... that bothered him. A lot.

It haunted him.

"I just want the person I love to be happy" was probably an unrealistic sentiment. After all, people (and nations) were selfish creatures.

But England was starting to think along that route. He couldn't live with himself, clinging to a relationship he knew wouldn't last anyway, when America could truly be happy elsewhere.

It was almost a week before he finally picked up the phone and dialed. "It's me, you wine-sucking creep. … Ha! Want to try saying that to my face? … Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something later... Yes, I know you're seeing somebody... Yes, I know _I'm_ seeing somebody. That's what I wanted to talk about... No, not a foursome!"

* * *

America rested his face on the bar, beside his nearly empty mug.

Life sucked. Why did life hate him?

Dammit, this wasn't _faaair_. England had practically forced that information out of him! He was a little fuzzy on just how many details he had given, but... He had warned England! How dare he take it so personally!

Somebody dropped into the stool beside him, and America was about to grumble something about giving him some space when another face hit the bar. America felt a wave of sadness that wasn't his own, and he turned to face mirror image blue eyes.

"Life sucks," Canada said.

"That's what I was just thinking! I know, right?" The sadness held the same twinge of heartache as his own. "France?"

"Yeah... England?"

"Yup."

America suddenly felt a harsh blow of guilt, and Canada winced.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing..." England must have told France what America had said. He had single-handedly ruined everyone's relationships! And of course, with the two of them, 'nothing' meant 'obviously you know it's not nothing, but please don't keep asking'. "What did France say?"

Canada finally waved toward the busy bartender. "That there was somebody better out there for me."

America jerked away from the bar, gaping at his brother. "He really said that?"

Canada's suspicion grew more palpable as he sat back up. "Yes."

"Ah..." America gave a helpless laugh. "I told England about us. That's what happened."

His twin's eyes widened. "What, you think they're..."

"Trying to push us together."

"I suppose that would be the logical conclusion if you told them about us."

America's smile finally returned. Canada was feeling the same things he was—longing, hope, some additional emotions neither of them really understood. "What do you think?"

"We knew it would happen eventually." Canada stared down at the bar, shooing the agitated bartender away. "Are we ready for this?"

"I've tried to forget." America toyed with his mug, rolling it between his hands. "Well, not forget, but you know."

"I know."

"They've all been good. But they weren't..."

"I know."

They couldn't fight it. It was inevitable. Always had been.

They closed in as one, lips connecting as neatly as their border, arms winding around each other in an attempt to pull their bodies closer than was physically possible. America tasted Canada, tasted himself through his brother.

"Forever," he murmured against Canada's lips after they had parted briefly.

"Of course."

They kissed again. And for the first time, it felt like all the puzzle pieces of their lives had finally been put all together.

* * *

_Yay for my first kink meme de-anon! _

… _I just realized how much funnier this would make the part where America super-strength-wallops Canada in the crotch with a baseball. XD_


	2. Chapter 2

_I wrote sex! -blushes and hides-_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

The bedroom was silent and still, save for the voices that grew ever closer from the hallway.

"Come on, it'll be romantic."

"I'm not a girl!"

"I know, but I've still always wanted to do it."

"Oh, for..."

Sound of shuffling, movement, a grunt.

"You're heavier than I remember."

"You can pick up cars and _I'm_ heavy?"

"Nooo, I didn't mean you were heavy for _me_, just..."

And then America walked in, Canada carried in his arms. And he turned a little too quickly and smacked his brother's head into the doorframe.

"Ow!" they both said with winces. America sheepishly let his brother down.

"Well, uh..." Rubbing his head, America looked at Canada. Now that they were in the bedroom, he was feeling a little nervous and self-conscious. They had done this before, but it had been a_ very_ long time. They had spent many, many years telling themselves they couldn't be lovers again, only bestest bros. That would take some getting used to.

But then Canada—looking a little shy himself—started to unbutton his shirt, illuminated by the cool moonlight that filtered in between the curtains, and America's heart ached. And then _that _was quickly overshadowed by embarrassment that Canada had felt him feeling something so sappy, and they both blushed.

"We'll get used to it," Canada said, finally shucking his shirt.

America swallowed. "Is it weird to think my twin brother is the most beautiful creature in the world?"

A smile tugged at Canada's lips. "Everyone already thinks you have a huge ego. But you're wrong, _my_ twin brother is."

"That's probably something that might end in a tie..."

"Why am I the only one undressing?" Canada ran a hand over his own chest, caressing a nipple, and America gasped at the sensation.

"I could use some help."

Canada didn't need to be told twice. Unfortunately, pulling a t-shirt off over someone's head wasn't nearly as erotic as removing a buttoned shirt like Canada had been wearing. Especially when one's head got stuck, then one's glasses got caught and ended up somewhere on the floor.

"I'll find them in the morning, I suppose," America said, groping around on hands and knees. He could see fine without them, but had no idea where they had gone to.

"With your foot, probably," Canada said, dropping down to help him. "Oh, they're here." Rather than return them, though, he set them on the nightstand, along with his own.

"Thanks, bro." America grinned. "Those would be a bitch to replace. Even worse if every flag in the country needed one star removed..."

"And people say you don't think about consequences," Canada teased, scooting closer. They quickly embraced, holding each other close. America brought their lips together, while Canada started working on pants. He proved his French heritage when he rather quickly divested them both of pants and underwear without any difficulty, without even having to look or break the kiss. But then they pressed closer together, now-naked erections brushing lightly against one another, and they parted with a gasp.

"It's been a long time since we've seen each other totally naked," America said, panting lightly, still looking into his brother's eyes.

"We see it whenever we look in the mirror." Canada chuckled.

"It's still not the same. Count of three?"

"Fine."

"One... two... three!"

They both looked down.

"Awesome." America grinned. "Oh. You're still a teensy bit bigger."

"Obviously. I'm still second biggest, you're still a close third."

"It's true about Russia, you know."

"Don't have to tell _me_."

"Oh, right." America trailed his fingers down Canada's chest and stomach, giving them both a shiver. "But yours is best. It's perfect for me." He gently pushed his brother back toward the bed until he sat, then knelt between his already trembling legs. He caressed along the inside of one thigh, biting his lip at the ghostly fingers that brushed against his own. He leaned down and licked the same spot, nipped at his hip bone. It did make driving Canada crazy easy. All he had to do was drive _himself _crazy, and he knew he was succeeding. They did have the same kinks, turn-ons, erogenous zones, and everything, after all.

"C-come on..." Canada groaned. When America looked up with a smirk, he groaned again. "You can't tease me without teasing yourself."

"Oh, I know you like foreplay as much as I do." But America took pity on him—them—and gave his aching cock one long lick, like a popsicle. Feeling the tongue running up his own length, America whined.

"S-see?" Canada gasped. "You're only making yourself suffer."

"Shush." America covered his teeth with his lips—with Canada he would be extra extra careful about where his teeth were—and swallowed his brother down. Canada arched back with a loud gasp, and America clenched his fists and moaned softly. He drew back, lapping at the head and flicking the slit, eliciting cries from them both and he couldn't even tell which voice was whose. Then he took Canada entirely in again, swallowing around him, and the part of his brain that remained coherent noted that he was much better at giving head than he had been the last time they had done this.

"S-stop," Canada gasped, sheets twined between his fists. "Oh god, stop, or I'll-"

Indeed, they _were_ close already. He wasn't sure if it was from their perpetually teenaged bodies, or just because they hadn't been together in so long. Whatever the reason, America pulled away. A normal couple probably would have been fine with an orgasm from oral sex. Then the other partner would take the one who had come, and by the time they were done, maybe the first one would be ready to go again... But they weren't a normal couple, and one orgasm would probably finish them for the night. It was a good case for quality over quantity.

Canada helped America up, onto the bed beside him. "I need..."

"I know." America leaned in for a kiss, allowed himself to be pushed back by the shoulders. "Me, too."

Canada lying atop him—oh, how _right_ that felt. Did any other nation who slept with their geographic neighbor have that same feeling of perfection, or was it just them? America suddenly found himself curious if the Italy brothers had ever... well, there was a time and a place for wondering about that. It wasn't now, when Canada had already coated his fingers from a conveniently located tube and his fingers were heading for—ah!

America arched back as the slippery digit worked into him. He smiled up at his brother, at the way his lip was caught between his teeth as he experienced it as well. Almost as soon as he started working the finger around, he brushed against _that_ spot that had them both moaning. Other lovers had to look for it. They knew right where to go.

Canada didn't waste much time in preparation. Another finger, stretch, another, done. Hell, America probably didn't _need_ much preparation. He was _made_ for Canada. He drew his legs back a little further, whimpering as his brother coated himself in lubricant.

"Ready?" Canada whispered.

"You tell me."

Canada positioned himself, leaning forward just until the head was teasing America's entrance.

"Oh, come on," America said with a gasp. "Now who's the tease?"

"I like this part," Canada said. "The anticipation..."

"I do too, but..."

"I know." With one swift movement, Canada was completely inside him, and they cried out.

There it was. That feeling of _completeness_ America had never felt with another lover. Like a part of himself had been restored he hadn't realized was missing. It was... it was indescribable. America tugged his brother's face down for a kiss. He could feel his own tight heat enveloping his cock, and couldn't help but wonder what it was like from Canada's end—essentially fucking himself. America mentally added 'defy geography and top next time' to his to-do list.

Canada lay still, simply kissing his brother. America didn't mind at all. It was a perfect sort of moment, enjoying the feeling of being together. With anyone else he'd have probably been telling them to _move_ already. But it was enough to enjoy Canada on him, in him.

"Okay?" Canada said against America's lips.

"Okay."

All it took was a couple tentative thrusts for America to thrash his head to the side with another loud cry, toes curling. He wrapped his legs around his brother to draw him closer, chewing on his lip to stifle the noise.

"L-let me hear you," Canada said breathlessly. As if to demonstrate, he moaned. He rocked into America a little harder, and they both yelled out.

"Better." Canada settled into a steady rhythm, moving his mouth to suckle on America's neck, marking him.

"Y-you know..." America gasped.

"What?"

"Last time we d-did thi-_iis, _I didn't have Alaska." He twisted the sheets in his hands. "I wonder if that's cha-aaange—ahh!—changed anything."

"O-only you would wonder that n-_now_," Canada said with a breathless chuckle.

America grinned up at him, before he was again lost in incoherent noises, in an avalanche of sensation. It was like being the middle person in a threesome. Which he knew from personal experience was pretty intense, but still nothing compared to _this_.

Canada sped up his pace, as much as his shaking body would allow, thrusting harder into his twin. America whimpered and clenched around him, groaning as he felt that squeeze on himself.

"N-not... much longer..." Canada managed to get out between clenched teeth.

"No."

A few more thrusts pushed them over the edge, again in unison. Both orgasms hit them at once, overwhelming all their senses, and they screamed, vision going white. It felt like it went on forever, limbs shaking uncontrollably, heads thrown back, throats raw. And then, the white faded from their vision, replaced with blackness.

America had no idea how long he had been out, but his eyes snapped open at the same time as Canada's. His brother was sprawled atop him, at some point having withdrawn, and America was suddenly struck by how empty and kind of lonely he felt without him inside anymore.

"I..." Canada tried, voice hoarse and weak. He quickly gave up and flopped his head onto America's chest.

America didn't even bother trying to speak or move. Somebody had replaced his bones with pieces of rubber. Very heavy rubber. However long he had been unconscious, he could still feel the aftereffects of the orgasm washing over him, and he probably still would be in the morning.

It probably took a half hour for Canada to be able to muster the strength to push himself to the side, cradling against his brother. "Well..."

"That was awesome," America said. Now there was an understatement.

"Yeah..."

"How do you think _they're_ doing?"

"Eh?" Canada flung an arm over America's middle. "Are you thinking about other people? I didn't do you hard enough."

America laughed weakly. "What can I say? I love them, I'm worried. I single-handedly broke both their hearts, then ran off to have literally mind-blowing sex with you."

"Oh, _them_ them."

"Yeah. How did France take it?"

"I told you how France took it."

"Not the... losing you. The other part." America sighed, snuggling closer (if that were possible). "England was actually not as upset as one would expect, finding out he could never be the best I'd ever had. But France would take a blow to the sexual ego harder, huh?"

"Oh, that." Canada giggled. "Yeah, that did bother him. But I'm sure he's making up for it now."

"Think so?"

"Well, think about it. Everyone knows about their angry sex."

"Everyone who was in the same city as them last time they were together knows about the angry sex."

"Right. And now France also feels he has something to prove."

"Ohh." America grinned. "Then yeah. They're probably doing all right."

"Five bucks says England's still walking funny next time we see him."

"Five of my dollars or yours?"

"Like it even matters anymore."

"Five more bucks says France is walking funny, too." America nuzzled Canada's neck. "We can't let them win. Let's go again."

"Do you want to _kill_ us?"

"No..."

"Fine." Canada rolled away from America, onto his back. "If you can get up here and do me, you're welcome to."

"Uh..." America tugged him back into his arms. "Morning sex. We'll show them who's hotter with morning sex."

"Mmm."

"Love you," America whispered, punctuating it with a kiss.

"Love you, too."

The exhausted pair closed their eyes, and they drifted off to sleep at the same time, perfectly content to stay in each others' arms forever.


End file.
